Page 79 of A Dare too Far


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Dearest brother,

I would not have bothered you with this, knowing as I do, that you are convalescing, but you sounded so fit in your last letter, so much more yourself. And Wix is just now so ill I cannot help Dr. Abbot.

I will not drag it out. I unwisely revealed the weaning strategy to Uncle Neville, and he knows we have been reducing his dose. He flew into a rage and took more than he should have. He’s quite ill, George, and if possible, I really do think you should return to London.

Martha

The howling increased. His muscles tensed.

But then Jane’s voice broke through. “I have made a choice, and I am glad you are all present so I can announce it now.”

George blinked up out of his nightmare. No, no, this was no good. Everything he wanted and everything that could go wrong. At the same time.

“Jane…” He laid a hand on her shoulder.

She smiled at him, then smiled at everyone. And it waseveryone, too. While he’d read, others had arrived. Lord Devon and Eddie, Mrs. Brighton and Miss Clarke, even the earl and countess and Miss Clarke’s mother.

Fuck. No other word worked.

Jane glanced at him once more, and there was such joy on her face, he could not dash it. He smiled weakly and nodded.

She took his hand in hers. “I have accepted Lord Abbington’s offer of marriage.”

A moment of shocked silence. Then Mrs. Brighton clapped.

Eddie strode around the table and clapped George on the back. “Finally, old man. It’s about time.”

The suitors, one by one, each broke into different measures of smiles, expressing annoyance, acceptance, and confusion.

Quillsby’s smile soon turned to a frown. “Why ask us here, Abbington, if you’re going to get the girl yourself?”

He’d thought he couldn’t have her. He’d been right. He stood, not knowing what else to do. The letter was balled in his fist. When had that happened? He sought out Jane’s father, who looked more than a little bemused.

“Lord Whitwood,” George said, “we will talk, of course. And my solicitors will be in touch to discuss details. But I must be off to London. This very moment.”

Jane jumped to her feet. Her eyes flicked to the table, then to his hands. Looking for the letter? “Did you receive bad news? I saw you reading it.”

He nodded and backed toward the door.

She followed as he picked leaden feet up one by one to climb the stairs.

“George, you are unwell. Stop. Talk to me.”

He did stop. He turned to her.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“Mr. Simon Fox.”

Jane smiled brightly. “You’ve met him, then?” She eyed him from boot to perfectly placed hair. “If you didn’t look so stricken, you’d look marvelous. Clean-shaven and all. Simon has done an excellent job, but George… the letter?”

“I cannot imagine a better valet for me than Mr. Fox.” Easier to discuss the valet than to say other things that needed saying. “You’ve not only found me a valet, you’ve found me a cheerful way to begin each day. I intend to take him with me when I leave.” He had intended to take Jane away with him, too. Now he could not.

“He’ll be terribly pleased. But that is neither here nor there. Tell me,” she urged.

“How did you find him?” George asked.